FFIV Drabbly Drabbles
by Princess Coeurl
Summary: FFIV A collection of unrelated one-shots inspired by random dictionary words. Many characters, but with a slight focus on the Baron trio. Genres include but are not limited to angst, friendship, and humor. Spoilers from the whole game. 5 drabbles added.
1. Project Details

I do not own Final Fantasy and make no money off this work.

The official name of this project is Dictionary Drabble-a-Day. It's exactly what it sounds like. Every day I get a word from the dictionary and write a short one-shot inspired by it.

Due to the nature of this challenge (in my head, anyway), the pieces all have only minimal polishing. The reason for this is not to cause the reader pain, but because I often won't post things because I'm paralyzed over some problem of word choice.

The goal of this project is to improve my writing ability, so feedback of any kind is greatly appreciated, though concrit would be appreciated the most.

The rest of these can be found in my LJ: http:// princess-coeurl. livejournal. com/ Feel free to comment there as well.

Thank you for reading and enjoy :)

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Contents:

2. Kain hates being one too many for a pair. Fluff, Humor

3. He didn't want to be the ungrateful. Kain Angst (a genre in itself)

4. Zemus reflects on his people and his philosophy.

5. Time has move on without him. Angst

6. Rosa dislikes politics.

7. She was at home in the mist.

8. They have different legacies to follow.

9. All he had left was to trust in the king.

10. Oh, the things he'd do for his friends. Humor

11. His life as a bard was not altogether unrelated to his new one.

12. Kain takes the Mount Ordeal's trial. AU

13. He's ten years and his world is perfect.

14. Golbez is at odds with his brother's take on his heritage.

15. Edward has doubts. Anna doesn't. Romance, Hurt/Comfort

16. Sometimes he has trouble coming to terms with how things have changed. Angst.

17. Don't mess with Rosa, or she'll mess with you. Humor

18. Tellah will make Golbez pay. Character death

19. They have more in common when he takes off his mask. Hurt/Comfort

20. Bahamut doesn't trust Lunarians. Possibly AU

21. Zemus won't allow any resistance. Dark

22. He stood at the turning of an age. Humor

23. Some of his duties were less pleasant than others.

24. A few years after the war Baron set aside the dark swords. Minor Crossovers

25. They were going to be great. Fluff


	2. A Few Steps: Baron Peeps

Maxixe - n - a ballroom dance of Brazilian origin that resembles the two-step

Kain hated dancing lessons. He would have wagered his father's spear that Baigan ordered them the way he did purely for the embarrassment of everyone involved. Why else would they be required now, at just the age when children were no longer intrinsically comfortable with each other and before they'd learned to do something about it? That they were mandatory, and leading up to mandatory balls only added to the agony. Especially when the lesson was in stupid dances from Damcyan; as if a nation like Baron would ever need to impress such a ground of weak-willed cowards.

On top of that, Cecil and Rosa had paired up again, leaving Kain standing awkwardly by the edge of the group, trying not to attract attention from the dance instructor. He was starting to hate classes they shared with the girls; he was never at a loss for a partner when it was just the two of them.

Kain had almost resigned himself to having to partner up with the dance instructor (something he would never live down) when a pink-haired girl walked over. Though she wouldn't quite look at him, or he her, he recognized her as Lenna, the daughter of one of his father's dragoons. Besides that he didn't actually know anything about her, except that she was always hanging around the stables whenever he snuck down there with Cecil and Rosa.

Kain sighed, once again thinking of the humiliation he'd suffer if he didn't ask. Life wasn't fair.

"Do you have a partner?"

She shook her head, still looking down instead of at him as they took their place in the line. A quick glance down the row told him Cecil and Rosa were not wasting any time mourning his absence, laughing over something or another. He looked away, scowling.

The dance itself didn't help matters. It was simple enough that Kain soon couldn't use the steps as a distraction, and his attention would wander around the room. His eyes would invariably land on Cecil and Rosa, who were having a fine time. Then he'd turn his attention forcibly back to the dance, stomping and tightening his grip around Lenna's forgotten arm. She'd wince and he'd apologize and the entire process would begin again.

Eventually they were dancing right behind Cecil and Rosa. Kain was very pointedly not looking at them, but couldn't help it when Cecil leaned in and whispered something in Lenna's ear. Kain's anger flared. What the hell did he think he was doing? Kain was just about to risk hours more dancing lessons as punishment for dropping out of line and pummeling his best friend when Lenna laughed and gracefully switched places with Rosa.

"You looked so miserable," Rosa said quietly, smiling across at him as they twirled. "We decided to stage a rescue."

Kain scowled. "What, so Cecil decided to free the damsel in distress from my bad dancing?"

"I meant both of you." Kain felt his face grow red. He really hadn't meant to imply what he just had.

Rosa laughed again, pulling him into a quick turn. "Don't worry," she laughed, "I won't tell him."

The rest of the lesson passed quickly, more quickly than Kain had thought possible. Cecil, who had been caught up in the stampede out of the room, met them right outside the door.

"Really, Kain, what did you do to that girl? She looked like she was afraid she'd be eaten."

Kain turned red again. "All I was doing was dancing." Had they really been that bad?

"Maybe that was enough," Cecil snickered.

Kain smirked. He couldn't help it. "Well, it's really your fault for stealing the only girl who can put up with me."

Any response Cecil would have made was lost as Kain grabbed him and put him in a headlock. Yelling and scuffling ensued, stopping only when Rosa finally made her way out of the classroom.

"We are sorry Kain," Rosa said, looking far more apologetic than the situation demanded. "Three's just a bad number for these sorts of things."

"Mm," Kain nodded. He knew she was right. At least he didn't have to be mad at them anymore.

Cecil smiled. "So let's go do something else."

Kain smiled back. Yes, he thought. There were plenty of things they could do in threes.


	3. Left Behind: Kain

yellow dog - adj - a) mean, contemptible; b)of or relating to opposition to trade unionism or a labor union

The king never did anything, really, to say he disapproved, but Kain knew it to be true. Before he'd always been able to explain it away; Cecil was needier, had no family besides his majesty. But now it was too obvious too miss. The king had even gone so far as to move Cecil above him in the table placings.

It would be different if his father were still alive, he'd think sometimes. Then no one would have questioned his decision to join the dragoons as every Highwind had since the very founding of the nation. Then he'd be measured as the dutiful son and follower of a legacy, instead of as the king's ungrateful ward. Then he'd have something Cecil didn't.


	4. An Understanding: Zemus

collude - verb - conspire, plot

A/N: This is a little AU, going off my personal canon for Zemus and Kluya. If anyone has a better name for the Lunarians, please let me know.

They would soon see themselves for the fools they were. He held power wherever sentient beings held hatred, that universal emotion; there was no binding him within walls, or a body, or even this celestial prison.

Kluya, out of all of them, should have understood it the best. Idealism and curiosity; they were traits that had defined the both of them, driven them to study those lowly creatures on the planet below. They'd been quite the pair once, the two of them, breaking rank with the shriveled husks of their elders who were content to let time shape events.

But Kluya, he had understood. It was passion that shaped history for the better. They spent many long nights sitting up together, looking over their people's histories had yielded this conclusion. Passion molded history, while apathy, like that so cherished by the rest of their kind, allowed the world to crumble around them.

And careful passion was the most effective of all. He knew it best to keep it a low flame, easily but carefully fueled by deep and contained hatred. It was ironic, he thought sometimes, how it was the society he so despised that had brought him his solution.

They were emotional beings, the ALoRa, or Lunarians as they had called themselves for the sake of the rodents on the Blue Planet. Kluya burned from allowing it full reign. And then there'd been no one who'd understood.

None of the rest deserved this, he'd decided then, life, or consciousness, or existence. And so he'd taken a disciple, one of both worlds and neither and who would see them all destroyed.

A slow-burning flame was best. Zemus knew. Hatred was an easy thing to hide. He needed only to position the worthless beings over the flame, and the world would not even feel the heat until the flames were poised to consume them.


	5. Ghosts: Cecil

coeval - adj - of the same or equal age, antiquity, or duration

Barun would have missed the man had he not been expecting him. The setting sun turned his white hair ten shades of red and gold, blending his form in with his surroundings and accepting him unquestioning as a part of the graveyard.

He took his time heading toward the still figure, bending to pull up a weed or clear a clump of mud from a worn headstone. That how most of them were here, as they had been in his father's time, and his father's before that. Had the state not such a patriotic nature this area would most likely be a forest by now, despite it being the resting place of the kings and queens of old. He himself had been named after some ancient forgotten kingdom that had once stood on this very spot. Still, history was quick in fading, most of the memories lost with the names on the headstones.

The man didn't acknowledge Barun presence as he moved to stand beside him, but he didn't mind. In truth the man was a stranger; Barun didn't know his name, nor had he ever shared his own. And yet he felt like he knew him. After all, the man had been his one constant appointment for over thirty years of tending the dead.

He still look about fifty Barun noted, as he had for the entire time he'd known him. It wasn't something Barun thought about, much; he worked a graveyard, and as such didn't question what little company he was allowed.

"She was always fond of jewelry," the man said unannounced, as if he were merely continuing aloud some conversation they'd been having. "Never once did I get her just what she wanted, but she would always smile as if it were the kindest thing anyone could do for her."

Barun waited. It had been like this every year since he'd begun approaching the man. He had never asked a single question. After all, he wasn't the one the man wanted to talk to.

The man chuckled, continuing after a moment's pause. "He was even worse than I at choosing gifts for her. Though the two of us generally did well by each other."

"The one thing I'm truly grateful for now is that we solved the things between us. So that he could be buried here, with his family, and with her."

The man said no more, nodding at Barun as he wrapped his cloak around him and strode down the path toward the graveyard's gate. Barun watched him, unable to stop himself from once again thinking how, with his pale, hard features, the man could be one of the graveyard's crumbling memorials given life for this single day every year.

Stories of him had been in Barun family for generations. His grandfather had believed him a failed knight, while his father had thought him a ghost who had died far away, but meant for the single empty lot in the graveyard that just so happened to lie between the two the man came to see each year without fail.

Despite being surrounded each day by the dead, Barun wasn't sure he would agree with such supernatural solutions. To him, their visitor was just what he appeared, a man who missed his family.


	6. Little Worries: Rosa

raj - noun - rule; especially often capitalized; the former British rule of the Indian subcontinent; the period of British rule in India

Rosa supposed she shouldn't have been surprised by how willingly Baron's people took Cecil as their king. She'd worried that with the recent upheaval people would be unwilling to trust anyone, especially one who they had so recently condemned as a a traitor who'd sold his soul.

Paladinism, she supposed, and his obviously key role in toppling the Giant (and the defeat of Golbez, as the public saw it), had been their key allies in winning the people's fickle hearts. Perhaps she was being too cynical (something she had never considered herself before). After all, the only ones who had shown any discontentment with her paladin's appointment were those who had enjoyed a little too much freedom under the impostor king's rule, and as such would not do anything directly.

But, she supposed, it was her place to worry. She was the queen, after all, and could not let her husband carry the burden alone.


	7. Cloud: Rydia

evanescent - adj - tending to vanish like vapor

Rydia loved the mist that clung to her valley, her entire world. Her mother had told her that living in this valley was like living in a cloud, one of those floating white things visible in the sky during midday. But to Rydia the clouds held more beauty for her than the sky; contained and cool with all soft edges and far away from anything unknown. But she didn't need to see the other clouds. She preferred when the sun hid itself once more behind the mountains and her mist once more covered the valley, keeping her world small and dark and safe.

She resented the sun for burning away her mist. It left her rankled and exposed, just as it did the valley, turning her beautiful dull colors and quietly dissolving edges harsh and bright. Her mother would laugh when the green-haired girl wrinkled her nose at the light and run inside, telling her of places beyond the valley where the sun brightly every day and the only mist was the clouds in the sky. And Rydia would scrunch her face even more; she couldn't think of anything worse.

So when that night the mist had thinned and then disappeared entirely, she'd known immediately that something was wrong. And when the fire had come to chase her mist away forever, she though of her hated sun, come to burn her cloud and banishing her to the harsh world for good.


	8. Look to the Sky: Cecil, Kain

alow - adverb - below (nautical term, also used in alow and aloft, meaning all-encompassing)

The love of the sky; it had been the first thing they'd really had in common, he and Kain. Before that it had been petty arguments about the king liking one of them better, about getting pushed into the castle moat. It wasn't really until Kain had caught him up late one night, having somehow avoided capture by the castle's army of servants, simply sitting, staring up into the heavens. Kain had told him about his aspirations to join the dragoons and Cecil had told him of his fascination with the moon. They'd still fought after that, but as friends instead of enemies, as children who could sit and watch the clouds and know that the other was dreaming of flying among them.

Cecil loved watching Jumps. It was the closest a person could come to flying of their own power, Kain said, and Cecil couldn't help but agree as he watched his friend leap up to be accepted by the sky he watched from the ground.

But as much as he wanted to sail effortlessly through the sky, it had never seemed right to learn. The path of the dragoon was Kain's legacy, and Kain's alone. Instead he'd fly his airships, and with their help search for his own.


	9. A Matter of Faith: Baigan

comptroller - noun - 1: a royal-household official who examines and supervises expenditures; 2: a public official who audits government accounts and sometimes supervises expenditures; 3: the chief accounting officer of a business enterprise or institution.

Baigan wondered sometimes if he could run the country by himself. The king sat on his throne, occasionally speaking to the populace or other monarchs and passing the infrequent edict. On day to day matters Baigan was left entirely to his own devices, looking in on his majesty more often to weigh in on kingly matters than the other way around. And the king mostly took his advise, and always gave a reasoned disagreement when he didn't.

It was on the truly great matters that Baigan always found himself lacking, and wondering how the king could so wisely rule on subjects of such gravity. When to go to war, whether to compromise with an outspoken nobleman, who to send to moderate treaty negotiations. Baigan was by no means an indecisive man, but some matters took more of a gamble of authority than he could muster. And his majesty had yet to steer the country wrong.

Sitting in the dank stone cell, Baigan thinks that perhaps it was his involvement, his ability to keep the kingdom running largely without a king, was what had allowed these impostors to gain the foothold they'd needed to control the great nation of Baron. Had he noticed the signs, had he allowed more of them to trickle down to the ever-watchful vultures of the noble houses, then perhaps the bloodshed to come could have been avoided. Instead he was being held here, in some remote tower, waiting as these monsters readied whatever process they used to make a puppet from his flesh.

These long days as a prisoner gave him an unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome, feeling of peace. It was, after all, the most extended vacation he'd been allowed since taking his place as captain of Baron's guard all those years ago. He had time to let his thoughts wander, for once.

It was Lord Harvey, the king's ward, who kept coming to mind. Baigan had never taken to the boy, and had watched, with mild disgust, how quickly and entirely the king had. It had been their greatest disagreement, the one time the king had disregarded his opinion entirely, asserting his royal authority with a resolve that had shocked the captain of the guard.

He'd come to respect Harvey, if grudgingly so, as a hard worker and able commander, if a bit of a fool. It seemed a bit much to pin his hopes for the future of the kingdom on the man, but it was what he was doing nonetheless. Baron's king, its _real_ king, had chosen him as his successor. And at this moment, at their kingdom's moment of need, Baigan was willing to swallow his pride in hopes that the king had chosen rightly in this matter as well.


	10. Required Sacrifices: Baron Trio

parsnip - noun - a Eurasian biannual herb of the carrot family with large pinnate leaves and yellow flowers that is cultivated for its long, tapered, edible root which is cooked as a vegetable

Kain glared at the plate and made a face. "These things are gross."

"Kain!" Rosa admonished. "You know how proud my mother is of her garden."

How could they not? Kain grumbled to himself. He and Cecil could barely visit Rosa without Lady Farrell speaking of the virtues of gardening. Of course, Kain was fairly sure she did so more to imply the worthlessness of those who didn't. Kain largely ignored her. Future knights had no use for such things, especially future dragoons who would be spending as much time away from the ground as possible.

And if being a gardener meant eating food like this, then all the more reason.

Cecil, meanwhile, had been dutifully making his way through the generous pile of diced vegetables before him. Kain could tell he didn't like them any more than Kain himself did; the only people that focused on chewing and swallowing their food were people trying not to gag. By the look of things, he'd be as green as the food he was trying to dispose of by the time he cleaned the plate.

Rosa was frowning at him across the table. Making a show of ignoring her, Kain stabbed a yellow cube, holding at it at eye level to inspect it. It _seemed _harmless enough, but he knew it was just a disguise to lure unsuspecting children to put the nasty things in their mouthes.

But he had to. The last time he'd tried to defy Rosa's mother she'd not let Rosa visit the castle for a week, and then Rosa had been mad at him for the week following. It wasn't worth the fight. And besides, there was no way he'd let Cecil be the better gentleman.

The cube mushed as he bit, mealy chunks coating his tongue. The next one he swallowed whole, though it somehow still left the aftertaste of boiled boot.

But when he looked across the table, Rosa was smiling at him. Kain rolled his eyes and shared a pained glance with Cecil.

Oh, the things he'd do for his friends.


	11. Gentle Crescendo: Edward

kapellmeister - noun - the director of a choir or orchestra

Running a country came naturally to Edward, though he hadn't expected it to, especially given the circumstances of his crowning. He'd expected his time as a bard to be wasted time when it came to ruling, a frivolous jaunt before a life of responsibility.

But commanding the reconstruction workers came to him as cleanly as a plucked out tune. A soprano's lament he could resolve with tenor condolence. A tense diplomatic meeting was simply a string to be tuned, and gave the same satisfaction when dissonant finally tones matched.

His doubts about ruling had faded, replaced with possibilities. This was his kingdom now, and this movement was only beginning.


	12. Measure of a Paladin: Kain

effulgence - noun - radiant splendor: brilliance

A/N: I'd promised myself I wouldn't write about Kain's Ordeal (because _everyone_ writes about Kain's Ordeal), but here it is. AU because of TA.

"A change of purpose, not of character," was how Cecil had described it. It had taken Kain a while to see it that way. Before, he'd have called it inner peace, enlightenment, ascension to the heavens where Kain could not follow. Certainly a profound change, a change, and a barrier.

It was a barrier he was now on the other side of, in a sense. He'd taken the mountain's trial, though it had not been the straightforward thing Cecil spoke of.

Instead he'd relived it, his darkest hours. He'd been given the second chance he'd never thought possible, a chance to right the his greatest wrongs against those he cared for most.

And he'd rejected it. For what did it matter if he could play out the scenario correctly if they were not his true friends but pale illusions of his memory and the chamber's magic? He knew what he'd wanted to do, what he'd wanted to do with the scene once more laid out before him, to push aside his doubts for once and embrace the promises of what he could have had.

But acting that out here wouldn't change the past. Nothing could. And so he watched himself fall once more.

And, somehow, the spirit of the shrine had been satisfied.

Kain had been left out in the sun and wind of the mountain's summit. He still wore a dragoon's armor, he noticed, but it was no longer his father's armor he was so accustomed to. The changes were subtle, but he could tell simply from the weight of it on his body; a sharper taper here, a bevel there. Still a part of the legacy he chased, but also wholly his own.

"A change of purpose," Kain pronounced, liking how the words felt as they left his mouth. A change of purpose, but not of anything else that really mattered.

So he jumped, the mountain rising above him as plummeted earthward. He no longer needed it; he had things to do. The past he could not change, but the future, the future was as open as the sky.


	13. The Best of Worlds: Theodore

panglossian - adj - marked by the view that all is for the best in this best of possible worlds; excessively optimistic

A/N: Inspired by a cute little AU by JaceyRae over on DevArt, which I'd read the day before writing this one.

Life was good for Theodore Harvey. To him the world was a remote corner of Mysidia, but it was his world and he was its prince. With few other children, and none as young as he, he was the village's darling child, even despite his family being such obvious outsiders.

He had a loving parents, a smiling mother and caring father. He had to share them now, true, but Theodore preferred to think of what fun they would have, he and his younger brother. His parents had promised it would be, once the baby was old enough.

He couldn't wait.


	14. A Matter of Upbringing: Golbez, Cecil

phony - adj - not genuine or real

Golbez never understood why his brother was so intent on appearing human. Humans were weak compared to Lunarians. Superior heritage was something to be flaunted and used, not hidden as if it was something shameful. Though this war had been caused by outside forces, Cecil's precious humans did quite well enough on his own.

Had Cecil's decision been based on logic, Golbez thought he wouldn't have been left quite as puzzled as he was. After all, humans were fearful creatures, likely to reject those superior to themselves out of concern for their own safety. That was how it had been for their father.

But no, it seemed Cecil was the one who was afraid. And not for his life, but that these people would not let him help them if they knew. Golbez could not fathom this reasoning, and had told his brother so on several occasions. Cecil had merely chuckled sadly, and asked what good it would do to tell them.

Golbez had stayed his answer, that this was merely an excuse his brother was hiding behind, and had pretended to agree. Telling Cecil wouldn't do any good either.


	15. What We Make of It: Edward, Anna

dally - verb - 1a: to act playfully, especially: to play amorously; b: to deal lightly; toy; 2a: to waste time; b: linger, dawdle

A/N: For some reason this word makes me think of the word 'spoony'.

Edward sat on the cool stone wall, idly tuning his harp and tasting in the desert winds the promise of spring. He should be returning home soon. His parents had been generous to allow him this time of freedom, roaming the kingdom pursuing his calling rather than his duty. But he had much to learn, and had promised to be back within a year that was very nearly over.

Anna walked over as he thought, bare feet making little noise as she crossed the grass. Placing her hands on her hips, she surveyed the daydreaming bard.

"Edward," she scolded, though her eyes laughed, "surely you must have caught the Desert Fever to be ignoring me like this."

Setting his harp aside, the bard looked up apologetically. "You know I could never ignore you. I was merely thinking. If I'm unsuccessful in winning over your father, I'm afraid we must soon be parted."

She sat down beside him, warm and real against his side, and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Nothing lasts forever, excepting only your songs and tales," she replied, smiling. "How long everything else lasts is entirely what you make of it."

With a mischievous grin, she rose and twirled in an experimental circle. Instinctually Edward reached for harp and plucked out a few notes. With each note her steps became more confident, until the tune and her movements became a single thing.

"Like this," she laughed, continuing to step to the music. "You wrote this song for the two of us. It's best when we're together, but others have heard it too. Now it will outlast the both of us."

Edward's fingers stilled. "I would rather the song never be heard again than to even think of being without you."

"We can fix that!" Edward looked into her smiling face, entranced as she continued her dance even without his accompaniment. He loved watching her move; each step and twirl delicate, but with a confidence behind it hinting at an inner strength. "If your parents will not let you stay, then we merely need to convince mine. It's just that simple."

Just thinking of those stubborn eyes staring out at him disapprovingly from that mass of beard made Edward cringe. "You know it is not."

Skipping the last few steps toward him, Anna drew him into a kiss, a proper one this time. He could feel it in this, too; that strength in her, subtle yet relentless as the desert winds.

"It's only what we make it," she stated, with a confidence that allowed him no room to doubt her. Not that he ever did. "Now play that song again. No reason not to make the most of this moment too."


	16. Gone: Cecil, Rosa

astrolabe - noun - a compact instrument used to observe and calculate the positions of celestial bodies before the invention of the sextant

Leaning on the stone railing, Cecil stared out over Baron's plains to the mountains to the sky beyond that. He'd occasionally sneak off to this balcony, when he had a moment to himself. It was a good spot, fairly isolated, but with a view of the whole of Baron. He'd spent time here as a dark knight, watching the Red Wings in their exercises, but now he simply came here for time alone to think. Even these stolen moments alone were so much harder to come by, now.

So much had changed since the end of the war. He was king now, and married. His companions had become the rulers of their own homelands. Together, they had pledged to create a world where rising evil would be met by the combined forces of a united world.

Despite the changes, everything felt frighteningly normal. Their quest already seemed a surreal dream, with the finer details quietly dissolving into the haze. During an ordinary day he was all too easily distracted by his duties running a country. Everything would be as it should be then; the king alive, the world a collections of places he'd read of but never visited, Rosa a close friend and Kain a closer one.

It was easy to forget, surrounded by so much that had surrounded him his entire life. But when he inevitably took a little time aside and looked to the sky he couldn't help but remember.

Sometimes Cecil thought he could see the empty space where the second moon should have been. It had been one of the constants in his life, one he had taken for granted. And what reason had he not to? The red moon had been there his entire life, and the lives of everyone he knew, as constant as the sun in its celestial dance with its paler counterpart.

He found himself thankful at times for the castle's windowless corridors and often drawn shades, even the seemingly endless negotiations and paperwork. These things kept him from coming to this place and seeing this sky and forcing himself to remember.

Rosa would come for him eventually, be he out on the balcony where the three of them had spent so much time together or by their bedroom window late at night. His gaze would linger but he'd go with her; she was his last constant and he loved and needed her.

And she'd take his hand and bring him back, never once saying that she knew it was not the moon he was missing.


	17. Tread Carefully: Kain, Rosa

parlous - adj - full of danger or risk: hazardous

-

Eyes wide, Kain stared at Rosa, who was smiling back at him from across the training yard, then down at the arrow neatly pinning the sole of his boot to the hardened earth.

Rosa strolled over, her bow held loosely in her left hand. Smiling, she reached down and pulled with arrow from the ground with a violent yank.

"I just wanted to let you know that I know what you did," she told a slightly rattled Kain. "And that I won't take so kindly to such actions in the future."

The dragoon-in-training's air of nonchalance was well practiced, if entirely an act. He raised his foot slightly to inspect his boot. "An accident, as I've explained. Was it so terrible as to merit ruining a perfectly good boot?"

Rosa's eyes narrowed, though her smile didn't falter one bit. "You can get it repaired easily enough. And we both know it was no accident."

He did know. While he'd deny to having a motive as she implied, he'd have openly admitted to have accidentally landing almost on top of Rosa as she worked on what just so happened to be a love note. And by sheer coincidence it might have flown straight into the waiting hands of an oafish young knight who just so happened to fancy her, and in whom Rosa had expressed quite strong disinterest.

At the very least, it surely wasn't his fault that she hadn't yet written the name of the true target of her affection. It wasn't as if 'Cecil' was a particularly hard name to write, and from what Kain had seen she certainly got enough practice.

Curse those wind currents, so tricky and unpredictable. It was completely understandable if a fledgling dragoon occasionally got caught in an ill-intentioned gust.

Rosa thrust her arrow into its quiver. She turned as if to leave, but then spoke to him over her shoulder.

"I just wanted to warn you. If this happens again, it means war."

Kain wasn't overly worried as he watched Rosa trot off towards the castle. She might be good with that bow, but she would never actually _shoot_ him.

He headed for the barracks, doing his best to ignore the wheezing sound at every other step. It might be wise to take a _few_ precautions.


	18. Falling Stars: Tellah

flexuous - adj - 1: having curves, turns, or windings; 2: lithe or fluid in action or movement

A/N: I used the antonym for this one.

-

Golbez, Tellah thought, eyes locked on the darkness-clad figure before him. Just a simple incantation and he would have revenge.

Not that this man's life was worth a fraction of his Anna's, but as her father it was all could do for her now.

And now the cur had the gall to not return his captive. Now was his time to act.

Tellah lurched forward with all the strength his brittle bones allowed, crying out his daughter's name so that this monster would know for whose death he was being sent to his grave. The armored man stumbled back a few steps, and then laughed.

It was too much. Disrespect for himself Tellah was quite used to, but disrespect for his murdered daughter could not stand.

The magic flowed easily into this spell, his fury creating a clear channel for the energy to leave his body. There was shouting from somewhere behind him but he ignored it, focusing on the incantation pouring so freely from his lips. He could feel the power gathering in the air. The eidolon's dragon king himself could not survive such a blow.

He smiled and the world went black.

-

He did not regret his death. He'd been dead since he'd seen Anna pierced by those many arrows with her life bleeding onto the stone ruins of Damcyan castle. His only pain in passing was in not being able to finish the job as she deserved.


	19. Revenge: Edge, Rydia

inane - noun - void or empty space

-

Rydia found Edge in a dark corner of the Dwarven castle. She didn't know how she'd known to look there. It was probably because she too had searched out the deepest reaches of the Feymarch when she wanted to be alone to think of her mother.

He didn't respond as she approached. He looked so small, she thought, hunched against the stone wall, stature so different from the blustering arrogance he usually exhibited.

Sitting carefully beside him, she waited. If he wanted to talk she had things to say, but if not she'd just stay here for a while. She'd found being alone with her grief to not be quite so hard if she was with someone else.

"I'm such a jerk," he said eventually, still not looking at her. "They were good parents, and all I did was fool around and make shows of pointless rebellion. I never got to tell them how much I appreciated what they'd done for me."

"I think they understood, at the end." The summoner didn't look at him either, speaking out into the dim expanse of the room. "They knew you cared, in their last moments."

He shifted, and a few of the shadows fell away from his face. He wasn't wearing his mask, she realized, for the first time since they'd met. But he hadn't been expecting her, so Rydia subdued her curiosity and kept her eyes forward.

"Killing Rubicante was supposed to make it better."

The emptiness in his voice was one she knew. She could tell him about it, how the pain faded along with the memories, how everything would be fine except for that small part that was gone and would never be coming back.

Instead she said, "It didn't help me, either." She doubted he knew her history, but he doesn't ask. And she was grateful; she'd relived that moment enough times today.

They sat in silence a while longer.

Finally, Edge rolled to his feet, pulling his mask back over his face in the same fluid motion.

"If you ever need to talk about it, I'll always be happy to comfort you."

Rydia scoffed and stood. She could see that annoying smirk through his mask and it irked her. "If you've got the energy to throw around bad pickup lines then you have the energy to stop moping. So get back out there. The others were worried about you're worthless hide."

She stomped up the stairs, not waiting to see if he followed. From the sounds of it he wasn't, though she'd already learned not to judge on such terms when it came to their newest traveling companion. But she wouldn't begrudge him the time alone, now. She knew he'd be fine.


	20. Eye to Eye: Bahamut

saxicolous - adj - inhabiting or growing among rocks

A/N: This makes reference to some personal canon about things never explained in the game.

-

Bahamut found this moon horribly boring. He'd have speculated on _why_, if one was going to create a miniature planet of one's own, one would construct one so drab and lifeless. However, that same description very well fit the place's inhabitants.

Stretching his wings, the king of dragons launched himself out of his cave and into the open air. The expansive landscape was landscape was a welcome change, as was the sight of the Blue Planet, just over the horizon.

But as must as he longed for home, a place he remembered as once where he could fly forever and never see the same thing twice, he had a duty here. He did not trust these outsiders. They would be down destroying his planet right at this moment, he was sure, if they hadn't reached their 'understanding' all those centuries ago. And then his forests and mountains and seas would have been sucked dry to become as gray and lifeless as these creatures themselves.

After all, they'd insisted on rolling the raw and beautiful power of nature into artificial chunks of rock.

Something had stirred, though, just recently. He hadn't missed the subtle movements within their crystalline palace, nor the mobilization of his people back home. It seemed that time had begun to turn for him once more.

And he would have to be content with that until prophesied heroes came to help him rid the world of this place.


	21. Dust to Dust: Zemus, Golbez

chastise - verb - 1: to inflict punishment on (as by whipping); 2: to censure severely; castigate

A/N: This ficlet is based on the DS version.

-

Golbez was hungry. He'd been in the wilderness for days now, wandering through the serpent's road and then back. Why he'd come back was a mystery to him; he should have no attachment to the place where both his parents had been murdered. And yet he crouched here, in the bushes, staring out at the cottage of one of his former neighbors and practically drooling over the wonderful scents drifting out to him through the open window.

"If you need the food, then go take it. Nothing will be accomplished but sitting here in pointless indecision."

He started as the voice spoke in his head. He was beginning to get used to it, but it was hard to be so quickly rid of years of experience having a physical person to speak to.

Golbez shook his head. "Stealing is wrong. Father told me so."

"Did he also say not to kill? And yet you did, without bringing in pointless questions of morality."

"That was different." It was. The baby had deserved it, for killing mother. "These people have stolen nothing from me, so I cannot steal from them."

"But they have. Are these not the same people who robbed your father from you? In truth, you are being merciful in merely taking their food and not their lives for what they have done."

It was true. While he did not recall this house's inhabitants in the mob, his father had been killed so close to here that there was no way they could not have heard.

Golbez felt blood rushing to his head. These people were murderers, or as good as. He deserved to take their food, and much more, just as the Voice said.

And yet still he hesitated. Stealing was wrong, and the old woman who lived in that house had given him sweets once when she'd found him sitting, dejected, after once more failing at the white magic his father so valued.

"Go," the Voice commanded. Golbez's stomach growled.

After hanging back a second more, he crept forward. The window was just the right height for him to peek over the weathered sill into the house.

A pie rested on the table, easily within reach. The thick fragrance of cooked peaches surrounded him, making him want to lunge for the pie and stuff the entire thing into his mouth right there. Instead he took another second to make sure no one was coming - they weren't - before reaching through the window, grabbing warm pastry and sprinting back to his spot in the trees.

Settling down just out of sight of the house, Golbez brought his prize to his mouth, huge smile stretching across his small face. He didn't feel guilty at all. Those people deserved it, and now he would finally have something to eat.

He opened his mouth to take a bite and the pie burst into flames. The boy yelped, dropping the burning object as he scrambled backwards, looking for his attacker but seeing no one. He glanced back to the house in fear, but it was as still as before.

"You should not have hesitated." The Voice was seething, clearly furious and not moved by the tears sliding down Golbez's face as he stared at his meal, which was quickly being reduced to a lump of charcoal. "I have been kind, have told you all you need to know, and given you your revenge. And now you iwill/i obey my command. You will not hesitate again."

Golbez nodded, shrinking away from the charred patch of ground and looking back towards the cottage through stinging eyes. He was so hungry...

"Now go and get yourself some food," the Voice hissed. "Do whatever you need to do to get it."

And Golbez ran for the house, thinking only of the food he would wrench for the murderers' cold fingers, if he had to, and not at all of the last of his freedom burned and lying in the dirt.


	22. Rising: Cid

thaumaturgy - noun - the performance of miracles: specifically; magic

-

Cid gave the wrench one final twist and stood back to survey his work. Though he couldn't see far in the lantern-lit engine room he was satisfied. This was his third time through, checking each connection and each screw, and he was certain now. Today was his day.

His boots clomped on the wooden stairs as he ascended to the deck. The shipyard was far quieter than usual, excited chatter replacing the usual squeal of metal and pounding of hammers. Reaching the ramp to the ground, Cid ran a hand through his beard (the bushy brown thing would consume his entire body as it had his neck and face, his mechanics joked) and raised a hand for silence.

"I know ye all wanted me ta give some speech 'er somethin', but ye've all heard enough of my prattle o'er the years we've worked on this baby." He patted the ship affectionately, waiting for the laughter to die down before he continued.

"Now we're goin' to show da world the magic they lean on is not the only power. Instead we've got our own wit and passion, and wit' it we've done more than their mutterin' incantations ever could! Now let's see what this baby can do!"

Cid leapt for the helm, several of the mechanics scrambling aboard so as to not be left on the ground. They took their positions, each giving him an eager nod in turn.

He pulled the lever. There was a grumble from the ship's core, filling his belly with excitement. He looked to the open sky as the propellors began to move.

The ship lifted gently beneath him and Cid gripped the wheel, face all smile and beard. Oh yes, this was going to change the world forever.

There was a gurgling chug, a sputter, and the engine stopped, dropping the head mechanic and his baby the two inches she'd lifted off the ground.

Cid stood stock still, jarred by the crash and smile frozen on his face, Everything had been perfect, so...

"WHICH ONE OF YE MOOGLE-BRAINED MORONS WAS SUPPOSED TA FUEL THE SHIP?!"

There was no answer, the entire field being suddenly deserted.

Ah well, Cid thought, patting the wheel lovingly. They would patch her up and the age could begin tomorrow.


	23. Unwanted Ties: Mysidian Elder

abrupt - adj - 1: a:characterized by or involving action or change without preparation or warning; unexpected; b: unceremoniously curt; c: lacking smoothness or continuity; 2: giving the impression of being broken off; especially involving a steep rise or drop

A/N: I vaguely remember reading somewhere that the Mysidian elder's name was Minh.

-

Being a father had never been part of Minh's plans. Being Mycelia's political and spiritual leader had been quite enough responsibility for him. He liked where he was in his life, with a few close friends he'd gained over the years, liked by most of his people and respected by all, work that kept him occupied late into the night but satisfied when he completed it. It was a life with no room for small children.

It had been a tragedy, the death of those two young people. An accident at sea had been the cause. Their friends had urged them to use Devil's Road, fearsome in name, yes, and a type of magic they had yet to understand fully, but safe and reliable. But these two, a married couple who had just celebrated their third anniversary, had laughed the reasons aside, saying they wanted a little adventure. They had found it, just not the type they were expecting.

How lucky it was, he'd heard the townsfolk murmur at the memorial (not a burial; their bodies belonged to Leviathan, now), that they had not taken their children, a pair of twins, with them on their hapless voyage. And how fortunate too that they were twins, for even without parents they would always have each other.

Fortunate for the children perhaps, thought the elder, but not for him. Though they were barely past infancy, they had been entrusted to him. There was no other option, really. Mycelia's history showed over and over the perils of leaving twins without proper training, and as the city's greatest mage, the responsibility fell to him.

He'd taken an instant dislike to them, the moment the Tower's matron had brought them to him. They were round, red things, wearing identical pouts as they surveyed him as if they were sizing him up as their future guardian and finding him lacking. One of them even smirked at him. Minh hadn't known toddlers could do that, and he found it disturbing.

This must be some joke of fate, he'd thought when the matron had first told him of his new wards. After all, it was one of the few conditions of becoming elder he'd made a mental note to change but had simply never had the time for (another was being personally responsible for the discipline of citizens who left gysahl greens in the street, which had been quietly delegated and mostly ignored).

Joke or not, it was his fate to take them and he did. He'd make it work, somehow.


	24. Relics of a Darker Time: Cecil, Rosa

proscribe - verb - 1: outlaw; 2: to condemn or forbidden as harmful or unlawful

-

It was not until several years into his reign that the new king of Baron abolished the country's order of dark knights and began collecting the dark swords that had been left throughout the world over past centuries.

The end of the order was more of a symbolic move than anything, the last of the kingdom's dark knights having been killed during the Crystal War. There might have been opponents to the motion, had King Cecil not been so adamant about this act meaning no less honor for the memory of those who had served in the position.

The ensuing demand that the shrine of Mount Ordeals be used in the creation of a new fighting force was heard by the monarch, who had insisted they would find nothing there and that it would instead by wise to create an order of shield knights, versed in white magic and as skillful with a shield as with a sword. When this suggestion was dismissed out of hand, the king offered to take a few nobles to evaluate the shrine, an offer quickly accepted. No one asked why the king sent a messenger ahead several days before the trip, nor why the shield guard, affectionately nicknamed Guardian Force by its founding members, had been established immediately on their return.

The recollecting of the blades had been a far more difficult task. The world's nations had been more than obliging in returning any that had been left to their kingdom. That Baron's royals were personal friends of all these world leaders played no small part; even Eblan, reputably secretive and isolationist, had presented a blade. There were murmurs that Mysidia, who claimed to never have possessed any magic as foul as the dark swords, was hiding a stash to have their revenge on Baron for past crimes, but these whisperings soon quieted, lost quickly as few blades of grass caught up in the stream of time.

It was the merchants who would not simply hand over the requested weapons. "It was sold to me in fair trade," they would say, or "The curse of this blade has brought great misfortune on this shop; how can you repay me for my pain and suffering?" Most demanded huge sums of money, gil Baron could otherwise use to rebuild shattered nations. A smaller sum, and an official seal naming these business as participants in the war effort was finally agreed upon. The queen was reported to have smiled when her husband suggested this compromise, though the attending merchants failed to grasp its meaning.

Only one of the swords had been sold, though it was easily tracked down through the Mysidian Elder's magic and the trail of blood. The king struck down the sword's wielder himself, charging straight through the blade's dark magic to pierce the man through the heart. He had been more monster than man, yet the king was said to have shed tears over the mutated corpse as he closed the man's eyes and wrapped the still-glistening dark sword in a thick cloth.

The entire affair was quickly forgotten by most. Even those who had raged when the swords had been placed on a ship and sent to sea, headed of Fabul but intercepted halfway by Leviathan who had dragged the entire ship down beneath seething foam, had soon passed it over when the next outrageous reform was presented. That the entire crew had miraculously survived helped wash away such grievances.

For though the dark sword had been a prevalent part of Baron's past it was not one that in this day and age people were too determined to hold on to.


	25. Lofty Aspirations: Kain, Cecil, Rosa

apex - noun - the highest point; peak

-

"So what you do want to be when you grow up?" Rosa asked the two of them, hands clasped behind her back as she half-walked, half-skipped between the other two as they headed for the castle. "I want to be an adventurer, and ride a chocobo all over rescuing people. And I want to know magic like my mother and swordsmanship like my father and music and dancing and I want to be able to stand under a waterfall for hours and hours like a monk!"

"If you did that last one you'd end up as bald as a monk as well," Kain snorted, reaching out and grabbing one of Rosa's neatly-braided pigtails.

Rosa deftly twisted away, skirt billowing out as she spun to stick her tongue out at him.

"So what do you want to be, Cecil?" she asked. Kain looked indigent and she smiled mischievously. "You could be an explorer too and we could see the entire world, and when we were done with that we could go to the moons!"

Cecil's face scrunched up in concentration. After a moment he said, "I want to be the King."

"King?" Kain asked incredulously. "Before you said being king would be scary 'cause then you'd have to talk to Baigan every day."

"I don't want to be _king_," Cecil stressed, "I want to be the _King_. Because he's so strong, and he knows everything! He'd still be king, though."

"Well, when _I_ grow up," Kain began, almost before Cecil had finished speaking, "then I want to be just like my father." He paused. "Except even better. I'm going to be the best dragoon ever!"

But that doesn't make any sense, Cecil thought, slowing his pace. Why would Kain want to be anyone else? Because if Cecil could be two people, he'd want to be the King _and_ Kain, because Kain could do anything. He could always find something to do, and he could always find a way to do it, if it was something worth doing. Like that time Kain had decided they should ride the chocobos, but the guards wouldn't let them. So Kain had decided that going swimming that day would be better anyway, since chocobos were smelly and it was so hot, and they'd seen a sahagin!

Also, Kain didn't have a big scary beard. Cecil didn't want one of those.

Rosa and Kain were saying something, but he couldn't hear what. Yes, Kain was definitely the best, and Cecil hope that, one day, he could be just like him.

"Cecil!"

Kain was calling him. Cecil had stopped without realizing it, and the other two were already almost at the castle gate. "Hurry up! How are we supposed to be adventuring if we have to wait up for you all the time?"

Cecil ran towards his friends. Yes, he wanted to be just like Kain. Except when Kain was being a jerk, of course.


End file.
